There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Happy Freakin' Easter

So. Just out walking the idiots. Contemplating life. Thinking about stuff. And I have been trying to discipline the idiots lately, really, really trying, but tonight we’re accompanied by Pumpernickel, and I have to worry about her, too. Because she’s black and it’s night and people are stupid, generally speaking, but put them behind the wheel of a car? All bets are off. So I have this dog/monkey hybrid to worry about, and she’s in a tree! Under a car! Crossing the street! Attempting to stop moving cars with the power of her mind! But we’re making progress, with every two steps accompanied by “No barking!” “Stop pulling!” “Don’t eat that!” And it’s all a metaphor for my life – trying to keep morons from killing themselves and others, while no one thinks for a sliver of time about my destiny. And I see a couple walking toward us, pushing a baby carriage. I’m concerned, because frequently such couples are also accompanied by a dog (as reasonable people generally are), and my idiot parade will then be liable to yank my arm from the socket and try to bite each other just to Show Those Other Dogs Who’s Boss! But this nice couple says “Hi,” then apologizes for not patting the dogs on their empty noggins, and the guy says, “We have to walk our cats this way because they won’t follow us like yours will.”

Pumpernickel has groupies! These people know that Pickel thinks she’s a dog and walks thusly! And they put their cats in a stroller (covered by netting to reduce the possibility of escape) and walk them! Awwwww.

I have been reminded recently that Cesar Milan (the world’s fourth or fifth most perfect man [Jon Stewart and Clooney are in the Top Two]), the Dog Whisperer, recommends that life be lived in the following order: Exercise, Discipline, Affection. This is what makes dogs happy and well behaved. I should resent this deeply, as it is a condemnation of every aspect of my own life, which is not lived in that order at all. I tend to live in the following order: Internal Recrimination, Work, Overindulgence, Exercise. I resent the rule because it is true, not only for Bad Dogs, but also for Teenage Boys. I always want to put Affection first, with both Boy and Dogs. The Boy will not get into Community College at his current rate (passing 50% of his classes). His new nickname is The Professor, for obvious reasons. The Boy has currently lost his ipods and skateboard due to his grades, but that hasn’t seemed to motivate him much. He’s going to summer school.

We celebrated Easter by putting shelf liner into the greggers’ kitchen cabinets and unpacking boxes. I considered finding an Easter egg hunt and letting the two bad dogs loose amongst the children to steal eggs, knock people down, snarf down as many Peeps as possible, and generally wreak havoc, but it was just too much trouble. I also celebrated by getting a ticket. We went down to Brackenridge Park to marvel at the spectacle that is the Easter Picnic. See, for some reason every Hispanic family in SA needs to have an Easter Picnic at Brackenridge Park. This is a lot of people, people. So in order to get the prime picnicking spots, people begin camping in the park on Thursday night. It used to be that they were “camping” in the park, also known as sleeping on picnic tables. Now they actually pitch tents out there and string up caution tape to keep the Rodriguez family out of Gomez territory. So we were cruising through the park with the dogs in the car, marveling at the size of the noggin on a toddler, doo dee doo, and as I was driving out of the park, a police officer motioned me to pull over. The park was full of police officers, due to the strong possibility of a scuffle breaking out because a Gomez pulled down the Rogriguez’s caution tape. By scuffle, I mean knife fight. So the cop, he pulled out his ticket book. WTF? He then proceeded to tell me that when I put the new registration sticker on my car, MONTHS AGO, I had pulled off and replaced not the old registration sticker, but the inspection sticker. See, they changed the design of the stickers, and I pulled off the one that looked JUST LIKE THE NEW ONE and replaced it. I’ve been driving around for months with two registration stickers and no inspection sticker, and instead of just telling me to go get an inspection, the asshat gives me a ticket. After he told me that a LOT OF OTHER PEOPLE HAVE MADE THE SAME MISTAKE due to the design of the registration stickers. Happy freakin resurrection day to you, too, officer.

0 comments so far

birth & death